To Rebuild A Home
by PurpleCadet
Summary: Following the events of the season 5 finale, Harvey and Donna struggle to rebuild what remains of Pearson Specter Litt and tentatively try to mend their own relationship.
1. Chapter 1

**Well it's been ages since I've posted anything so I'm probably very rusty. Suits has made it very difficult to find inspiration to write for these two. Takes place almost immediately after the finale.**

* * *

 **To Rebuild A Home**

It was hard enough seeing it for herself, but when Harvey walks into his home, _their home,_ the pure anguish on his face is enough to break her heart for the second time in one day.

Louis has been roaming the halls aimlessly for the past hour, whether it's searching for signs of life or merely to keep busy, she isn't sure. Jessica has taken to her office, no doubt with a drink in her hand, quietly contemplating her next move.

And Donna, well, she's at a loss, really.

"They're all gone," she says unnecessarily, her voice almost breaking.

Harvey shakes his head, looking utterly defeated. Donna smooths down the lines of her dress, doing anything to keep her hands occupied and her mind off the fact that all she wants to do is wrap her arms around Harvey.

He glances around, surveying the damage. Donna watches as he casts his eyes across the bullpen, observing dozens of abandoned desks. It wasn't so long ago that Harvey was here, without an office, without his name on any kind of door. And she was by his side of course, without any official desk of her own. They were both so young and tethered together in such a way that makes her heart ache when she thinks about it now.

"What do we do now?" Donna asks quietly.

Harvey doesn't say anything for a long time, lost in his own thoughts. He finally looks at her.

"I don't even know what to begin, Donna."

"I say we start with a drink," Jessica says, sweeping into the bullpen with a bottle of half-empty scotch in one hand. Louis trails a few steps behind, carrying four glasses. Donna manages a small smile, Harvey can barely muster a smirk.

Louis hands her two glasses, one for her and Harvey. Jessica pours each of them a generous amount. She looks like she might be about to toast their misery, instead she downs her entire drink in one elegant gulp.

"We rebuild tomorrow," she announces.

"Tomorrow," Louis echoes.

Harvey takes his glass from Donna's hand and mimics Jessica, swallowing his scotch in one swig.

"Then I'll see you all tomorrow."

Donna watches him leave as quickly as he came, unable to find the appropriate words to make him stay.

* * *

The first night is the hardest for Rachel, for the obvious reasons. Donna goes to her house and lets herself in with the spare key that Mike gave her just before the almost-wedding. Rachel looks near catatonic, huddled in the fetal position in a bed too large for one. Her eyes are closed, but tears stream steadily down her cheeks.

"I want to be alone," she says hoarsely.

Donna doesn't say anything, doesn't have to. She simply steps out of her heels, climbs into bed with her best friend and wraps her arms around her while she breaks out into a full sob. Later, Donna helps her strip off her wedding dress and promises that she'll keep it safe until Rachel can put it on again someday.

Rachel eventually tires herself out from crying, falling asleep hours later. Donna eases herself out of bed, careful not to disturb her. She shuffles over to the kitchen and fetches a bottle of water for Rachel and a several pain killers for the headache she is sure to wake up with. She returns to the bedroom and places the items on the side table within Rachel's reach.

Her phone vibrates from her purse. She takes it into the living room, closing Rachel's bedroom door behind her. She's hardly surprised when she sees his name as the caller ID.

"Harvey?" she whispers into the phone.

"Donna, where were you? I tried calling before," he says, almost petulantly.

"I'm with Rachel."

Donna drops down onto the couch and stretches, trying to work the kinks out of her neck.

"I'm still here but she's finally asleep."

"She okay?"

"No." After a beat she asks, "Are you?"

Harvey scoffs into the phone. "Not exactly."

Donna resists probing for more. "I'm sorry, Harvey."

"Hey, you did nothing wrong. I'm the criminal here, remember?"

There's a slight slur to his words that suggests he's probably been drink since he left the office earlier.

"Didn't we already have this conversation last night?"

"We did. And I shouldn't have listened to you."

Donna sinks further down into the couch, her eyelids fluttering closed. She's so tired of having to reassure this man. For once, she doesn't say anything. She lets the silence stretch on between them to the point where it's almost uncomfortable.

"Will you come over?" he eventually says.

"Harvey…"

"Donna, please."

"I don't think –"

"Can we just ignore the fact that it might not be a 'good idea'?"

Easier said than done. There's a reason they don't spend time together after hours anymore.

 _(You know I love you, Donna)_

He senses her trepidation, "Donna, I just…need to be with someone who understands. Is that so terrible?"

"I'll be there in half an hour."

* * *

She finds him in far worse shape than he sounded over the phone. Harvey can hardly keep his head up – he's slumped heavily against the heel of his hand, nearly keeling over at his kitchen bench.

She unfurls the fingers that are gripped around his empty tumbler, takes the glass and fills it with tap water. She slides it back over to him.

"You look like complete shit."

With much effort, he lifts his head and stares at her.

"So do you."

She scoffs, "Impossible."

Though she can hardly feel like her million-dollar self when her make-up is stale, her heels are pinching her toes and her bridesmaid dress is a crumpled mess.

Harvey sloppily sips at the water she gave him. She eyes him with mild disgust and even in his inebriated state he can still read her expression. He shrugs.

"I've had a lousy day, Donna. Let's hold off the judgement until the morning."

She narrows her eyes at him. "I'm not judging. Wallow all you like, I just don't feel like playing babysitter all night."

"I'm not wall…wallowing."

Donna rolls her eyes. "How many drinks have you had between our phone conversation and now?"

Harvey does his best to give her a deadpan expression. "I don't need to be scolded, Donna."

"Oh yeah? Finish that water."

Harvey chuckles into his glass and Donna laughs in spite of herself.

"Come on, you are way drunker than I think even you realise."

Donna walks over to his side and grabs hold of his arms, hoisting him upright. He stands, barely, before he slumps against her like a deadweight, almost causing her to topple over.

"Alright, this isn't working."

She kicks off her heels, losing a few good inches in height, but regaining her balance. Harvey eyes her curiously.

"What is it?" she indulges him.

"Were you always this short?"

"I'm the same height as you, Harvey."

"Maybe with those insane heels on."

Donna attempts to shrug him off.

"If you can speak, you can certainly walk yourself to bed."

"'Course I can."

As amusing as she finds it to watch Harvey shuffle through his condo like a blind elderly woman, she takes mercy on him, reaching for his arm and guiding him to his bedroom. She realises this is the first time she's ever been inside, but quickly buries the thought into the far corner of her mind, somewhere next to the other time and _"I can't be me without you"_. Their relationship has gained so much baggage over the years that she's running out of storage space.

He plops down onto his bed and tugs at his tie. Donna rolls her eyes and stands over him so she can loosen the tie and pull it over his head.

"Okay, I've poured you into bed. This well exceeds the parameters of my job. Goodnight Harvey."

"Donna, wait," he says as she is turning to leave. "Stay."

"Harvey, you're drunk," she says, anger clouding her voice. She's not about to jump into his bed because he's had a shitty day, or worse, because he's lonely

"Donna, I'm not suggesting that we –"

"Ah, stop right there."

"I'm not trying to be a pig here," he explains, sounding far more lucid than he did moments ago.

"Jesus, there needs to be some boundaries between us, Harvey."

"All we've ever had is boundaries," he murmurs.

Donna chooses to ignore the comment, because in spite of his protests, he's completely hammered, it's the middle of the night and he's just lost his firm and his best friend all in a matter of hours. They are long overdue for a conversation about where on earth they stand, but she had put it on the back burner in favour of helping Mike. Tonight is certainly not the time to revisit the concept of 'them'.

"I'm going home, Harvey. And you're going to pass out and wake up feeling like shit in the morning."

Harvey reaches out and takes her hand, looks her square in the eye and says, "Stay."

When she climbs into his bed, she tells herself it's because he's hurting, because he needs her, that she's doing this as a favour to him. But this is just as much about her too. She'll almost definitely regret it in the morning when she wakes up and they've taken two steps back again, but for a few hours at least, she's going to allow herself to need him as well.

She doesn't dare face him, but she can feel his breathing on her neck from the other side of the bed.

Donna scoots backwards, instinctively seeking his body heat. Harvey's hand snakes around her waist as he buries his face in her neck. There are about a thousand reasons why they shouldn't be doing this, and tonight will no doubt be another memory she'll have to repress.

"I'm glad you're here," he breathes into her skin.

Okay, maybe she'll allow herself to hold onto that.

* * *

 **Well you've made it to the end, thanks for not clicking exit halfway through ;) I don't really have plan with this one but there will almost definitely be more. I just wanted to get it out there.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

He's starting to wonder if he's an even bigger masochist than he realised. Harvey stands by the elevator, clutching a cup of lukewarm coffee, calmly watching as his name is ripped from the wall, letter by letter. He might have expected it months ago when he resigned, but it's a completely different ball game when his name is being torn down in spite of his efforts to keep it there.

He wonders if the janitor is the same man who first put _Specter_ up there in the first place, or if he carved _Senior Partner_ into the glass door of his office, or _Mike Ross_ for that matter. He almost feels like an asshole for having no idea. The janitor in question finally takes notice of him lingering in the foyer.

"If you're looking for the law firm, they moved their offices. I hear they downsized."

Harvey resists the urge to snap at the man unknowingly throwing salt on his wounds. At least he doesn't feel like a dick anymore for not remembering the guy.

"I'll keep looking, then," he says.

But he doesn't move an inch. Harvey plans on seeing this through to the bitter end.

"Your therapist would have a field day if she could see this."

He should have known she'd want to be here with him for this.

"It's cathartic," he fibs.

"It's masochism at its finest."

Harvey smiles at her choice of words. Regardless of their convoluted history, it's comforting to be reminded that they still know each other better than most.

"It's only temporary, Harvey."

He nods. "I know."

He thinks about the dozens of files piled up in his living room, the few loyal clients whom he's been hand-holding for the past three weeks, his basket balls and records taking up storage space in his closet, the can opener that now lives in the goddamn _kitchen_ of all places. Every piece that still remains of their firm has been crammed into his condo. Louis is probably holed up in his spare bedroom for all he knows.

"Still feels like shit though," he says.

"Big time."

Donna nudges him with her elbow, pulling his focus from what's left of the Pearson Specter Litt sign.

"You want to get some breakfast?"

He glances down at his pathetic excuse for a coffee, then back at her. "Sure, I know a place."

* * *

"So you _know a place,_ huh?" she teases, lips curling into a smile as they slide into the familiar booth.

He shrugs, playing nonchalant. "I figured it was about time I started coming here."

Donna eyes him sceptically. "Right."

A waitress approaches their table and Harvey orders coffee for the both of them without missing a beat. The waitress scribbles down their order and makes herself scarce.

Donna tilts her head, studying him. He knows that expression – he's surprised her.

"You know my coffee order."

"We've been friends for over a decade, Donna. Of course I know your coffee order."

Donna snatches both menus from the table and hides them over on her side.

"Alright, smartass, I bet you don't know what I want for breakfast."

"I know you'll order fruit and oatmeal and then spend the entire meal picking at my pancakes."

Donna narrows her eyes. Harvey counts it as a win. "See, I'm right."

"And humble too."

The waitress returns with their coffees.

"Would you like anything to eat?" she asks.

"I'll have the blueberry pancakes," Harvey says.

"I'll have the same, please," Donna adds, ignoring his obvious grin.

Their breakfast arrives quickly and they eat in companionable silence. If it were a different time or they were different people it may have felt like a date. Harvey brushes off the thought.

"It's been so long since we've done this," Donna remarks, cutting into the silence.

He assumes she's referring to the fact that they haven't simply shared a meal together in months. The last time must have been the somewhat awkward dinner they shared where they skirted around her feelings for him before she blithely announced she was dating someone.

"Well, we suddenly have a lot more time on our hands," he says bleakly.

"Speak for yourself. I'm still unpacking boxes at your house."

* * *

They spend another full day in his living room, Harvey putting in calls to clients and Donna sorting through ancient boxes of files, throwing out what she can and salvaging anything that could possibly be used to benefit them in the future. Harvey has a lot of dirt on a lot of people, and lord knows Donna had been a master a documenting it all.

Louis and Jessica pay the two of them a visit as well. Louis had been in Boston the past week, trying to use what little pull he had left with Sheila to try and recruit some associates. Both he and Jessica had known what a lost cause it was but held their tongues for Louis' sake.

All that remained of Pearson Specter Litt was a fraud scandal, its three name partners, a legal secretary and a first year law student. They were hardly an appealing choice for any graduate. Still, Harvey could understand the need to feel useful. He was quietly going mad in the confined space of his living room slash office.

Jessica, on the other hand, had been far more concerned about the consequences of Mike's sentence.

"I need you to compile a list of every verdict, every deal, every goddamn conversation Mike ever had with a client, paying or otherwise," she ordered he and Donna.

"You're worried his cases will be overturned?" Donna had asked.

"I'm worried this will all be for naught."

Harvey could certainly share in the sentiment.

He and Jessica hadn't explicitly discussed their plans for the next two years, and other than trying to right their sunken ship, Harvey hadn't a clue what Jessica was going to do with herself. He could still recall their conversation from over a year ago.

 _"_ _You could teach."_

 _"_ _I could also kill myself."_

Jessica had been at this even longer than he had. She _needed_ the law, she needed to fight. They were so alike in that way, Louis too. They were equally disgraced now too. After skirting the law for so many years, Harvey may have deserved this punishment, but his partners didn't.

It's after dark now, Jessica and Louis having left for their own homes hours ago. Meanwhile Donna lingers, eyes straining as she reads in the dim light, heels kicked off and feet curled under her. Harvey takes to the kitchen, pouring her a glass of wine. He joins her on the sofa and she gratefully accepts the glass.

It's the fourth time this week that they have ended the day like this. It reminds him so much of their first few years at Pearson Hardman, back when the lines between them were only faintly drawn and they'd spent dozens of odd hours together, simply because he liked being near her. In thirteen years that much hasn't changed.

He finally takes notice of her attire – another fine example of the many figure-hugging dresses that categorise her professional wardrobe.

"You're staring," she says.

Harvey peels his eyes away from her.

"You didn't have to dress up for me."

The comment causes her to glare at him. "I've never once dressed up for your benefit, Harvey."

He's not entirely convinced that's true, especially considering how much she revels in torturing him, but he decides not to press the issue.

"I mean we're working from my apartment," he explains.

Donna picks a piece of lint from his shirt. "I don't see you ditching Tom Ford."

Harvey rolls up his sleeves, suddenly self-conscious. "Force of habit, I suppose."

Donna cradles her wine glass to her chest. "So what do you suggest? We start instilling _Casual Fridays?_ "

"Well that depends on how casual you want to get," he leers.

Donna playfully kicks his shin.

"I'm just saying there's no need to be so formal."

"I don't think anyone could ever accuse us of that," she says before taking a sip of wine.

Harvey laughs – it's about as close as she ever gets to referencing their past. He hasn't dared mention the morning after Mike's arrest when he woke up in his bed alone with his sheets smelling distinctly like her. _Maybe in another ten years she'll finally bring it up._

"Stay for dinner?"

Donna shakes her head as she places her wine glass on the coffee table.

"I shouldn't."

"Why? You have plans?"

"Not exactly."

She stands and begins to tidy up. Harvey quickly finds himself irritated by her vague answers.

"You have a date," he deduces. "With that guy."

Donna huffs. " _That guy?_ Wow, great attention span, Harvey."

"Mitchell."

Harvey notices a brief falter in her movements, but she covers it almost immediately by tossing her hair and stepping back into her heels.

"Actually, no. That ended a while back."

"I'm sorry," he manages.

"Yeah, you sound it."

He smiles apologetically. "Was it because of –"

She cuts him off before he can even properly formulate the thought, "Mike."

"Mike?"

"I was preoccupied – his words, not mine. Though I can't really fault him for pointing out the obvious."

He feels like a prized asshole. It seems that it's only ever after the fact that he realises how much collateral damage he causes – too often at Donna's expense.

Harvey stands from the sofa, walking Donna to the front door. She reaches for her coat from the rack, but he beats her to it. He holds it out to her, allowing her to slip her arms inside.

"He's an idiot," he mutters into her hair.

"As sweet as you are to say that, it really only makes me feel like a bigger asshole."

"Donna, you've done nothing wrong. If anybody should be apologising it should be me."

"Alright then."

"Or Mike."

Donna grins, pulling her wavy hair out from under her collar.

"So if you don't have a date…"

"I've got a call-back tomorrow morning. This star needs her beauty sleep."

"Wow, congratulations, Donna. That's…"

"Not a big deal," she waves off. "It's just a little play off-Broadway."

"It's great, really. I wish you'd audition more."

"Well, there isn't a great deal of parts available for women in my age bracket."

"Early thirties," he smoothly replies.

Donna winks at him. "Precisely."

They hover at the door for a long moment, Donna not quite prepared to leave, Harvey not ready to let her.

"I want…"

"Yes?"

 _I want you._

 _I want you to stay._

 _I want you to say it again._

"I want you to be happy, Donna."

"I know, Harvey."

She offers him a soft smile, squeezes his hand and walks out the door. When Harvey can no longer hear the melodic echo of her heels down the hall, he sighs and berates himself for losing his nerve.

"I'm the idiot."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello lovelies! Okay this third installment is quite short and probably just filler. I don't really know how many chapters this thing will be. I have a pesky habit of leaving things unfinished but I am sincerely trying to break it.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

"Wow. Orange really isn't your colour."

"You sound just like Donna."

Harvey tries to crack a smile but he's distracted by the hideous shade of purple that colours Mike's left cheek. Mike clears his throat, slumps back in his chair with his arms folded.

"I've had worse, Harvey."

"Who did it?"

"In fact, I've seen worse on you."

"Who did it?" he repeats.

"I seem to recall a bathroom brawl with Stephen Huntley..."

"Mike?" he demands, garnering stares from a few inmates and their families.

Mike glances around, almost self-consciously. "What? Are you going to get someone on the inside to beat me up?"

"Hey, I might."

He stares long and hard at Mike. Aside from the blotchy bruise that mars his cheek, he looks okay. Thinner of course, but alright for the most part.

"You were a smartass weren't you?"

"Guilty as charged."

Harvey rolls his eyes at the half-assed joke. "I told you to keep your head down, to refrain from saying anything stupid."

He's quite aware that he sounds like an overprotective brother, but he's not ashamed of such a label.

"I am, I promise. I was just sticking up for a friend."

"I thought I told you not to make any friends either."

"For two whole years? I'll go insane."

Harvey puts his elbows on the table. "Don't go around defending anyone else, Mike."

Mike says nothing and Harvey wonders if his advice will fall on deaf ears. He's only trying to keep the kid alive for two years, for Christ's sake.

"How's the firm?"

 _Hanging on by a thread._

"We're hanging in there," he lies through his teeth.

"Rachel says you lost the fiftieth floor."

"Minor set-back."

"And the forty-ninth, and the forty-eighth and the forty –"

"Anything else your fiancée mentioned?" he asks pointedly.

Mike attempts a smirk but he winces and cups his cheek. Harvey doesn't comment.

"I know you won't let the firm go under," Mike tries to reassure him.

 _Then why does it feel like we're all drowning?_

"Sorry it took so long for me to come here," he says, changing the subject.

"You answered the phone every time I called," Mike points out.

"Just accept my apology will you?"

"Okay, Harvey," Mike placates.

"Has Rachel visited?"

"Twice, yeah."

Harvey can sense the guilt in his voice but can hardly muster up any words of comfort.

"Can you do me a favour?" Mike asks.

"Name it."

"Could you ask Donna how Rachel's doing? I mean _really_ doing. I know she's putting on a brave face for me."

"Sure, I mean, I can try. I don't know how forthcoming Donna will be."

Mike chuckles, "Girl code?"

"Whatever that means."

"But I will."

"Thanks, Harvey."

"Anything else I can do?"

Mike almost looks embarrassed before he says, "Just keep visiting, okay?"

Harvey swallows thickly. "You got it."

* * *

Donna waits outside the building, sitting patiently on the wooden bench closest to the entrance, a take-away coffee in each hand, keeping her palms warm in the early morning chill. For the past five minutes she'd been trying to shake the notion that this feels like an ambush.

Eventually she spots her best friend briskly exiting the building, designer handbag looped over her wrist and clutching a thick text book. She's just as put together as any typical day at the office, if not slightly dressed down. She looks purposeful. She looks good, actually. A far cry from the devastated woman who sobbed in her arms not a month ago.

"Rachel," she calls out.

Rachel's stride comes to an abrupt halt. She turns to face Donna but her expression doesn't waver.

"I've got five minutes before my next lecture, Donna. What's up?"

Donna flinches at her tone.

"You haven't returned my calls or texts."

"I've been busy," Rachel answers distractedly.

"I've been worried."

"I'm fine, Donna. I'm dealing."

Donna wants to call _bullshit,_ but it seems she's already treading on precarious ground. Instead she offers Rachel the coffee, which she accepts reluctantly. They fall into a slow step with one another. Donna suddenly realises has no idea what to say to her, a problem she's never had with Rachel before. This cold, almost cruel front is so atypical of her best friend.

"How's school?"

"School's hard."

"It's good that you're going though."

"Because Mike would have wanted that?" Rachel snaps, surprising Donna. "My life doesn't just stop because my fiancée is in prison."

Rachel's walk becomes more hurried, but Donna keeps up with her pace.

"Sweetie, that's not what I was implying. But it's okay if you need to wallow for a while."

"What's the point? It won't change anything."

"Your mom says you've been staying with her."

Rachel rolls her eyes, perturbed. "You talked to my mother?"

"Well after three weeks of dead silence I called your parents' house looking for you. They still have a landline, who'd have thought?"

"You don't need to keep checking up on me, Donna. I'm not going to run away, or quit law school, or do anything stupid."

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

"I'm not avoiding you. We're talking right now," she huffs.

"Oh really? Because this," she gestures between the two of them, "Barely even qualifies as civil conversation."

"Donna, we don't work together anymore, it was inevitable that we would be spending less time together."

Donna ignores the patronising tilt in her voice. "We were more than just _work friends._ "

 _I have never seen a more beautiful maid of honour._

"You still have a home at Pearson Specter."

Rachel comes to a stop. "Donna, come on," she practically pleads. "You're not even working out of a real office. Every single client and associate jumped ship the moment they caught wind of the plea bargain. Mike went away for nothing," Rachel mutters, walking away.

Donna catches her wrist, makes her friend look her straight in the eye.

"Rachel…"

"I know he was guilty, you don't have to remind me, _I know_. But right now I can't be around the people who put him in the position to commit the crime in the first place."

Donna's expression darkens. "You mean Harvey and me?"

Rachel's lip quivers – the first sign she's given Donna that her steely resolve is armour not intended to inflict wounds, but to protect herself, even if she is hurting Donna all the same.

"I know you only want to help and dammit Donna, I love you for it, I do. But you can't even fathom what I'm going through right now. The man _you_ love isn't going to be sitting in a cell for two years."

Rachel hands her coffee back to Donna.

"Thanks for the coffee."

Rachel scurries off, presumably to her next lecture, if she even has one, that is. Donna finds the nearest garbage can and throws her coffee straight in the trash.


	4. Chapter 4

**Enjoy and review if you feel so inclined :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

He tips his glass toward her, a silent toast to their small victory. Jessica grins widely beside him. She presses her back against the booth, shoulders relaxing. For the first time in weeks she isn't wearing a frown. Harvey has missed sharing his winnings with her. He might finally be her equal, but he doubts he will ever stop trying to prove himself to her.

"That was some speech, Harvey."

"I know."

She chuckles. "Well, as long as you know. Who'd have thought Mike Ross' prison sentence could ever be used as a selling point?"

"Jessica, you should know by now that I can spin almost any weakness and turn it into a strength."

Jessica twirls the stem of her wine glass. "Just don't let this win go to your head. We are in no position to start getting cocky."

Still, Harvey can't help but revel in the moment a little. This new client is a big deal. Sure, they wouldn't be bringing in millions in billings just yet, but a Biotech company that had almost gone under because their CFO had received allegations of a fraudulent college degree? It was almost too perfect. Ironically, this was their main reason for even agreeing to a lunch with Harvey and Jessica. They had to start over once. Just like Harvey, Louis and Jessica are now.

"Have you been to see him yet?" Jessica asks.

"I saw him this morning."

"How is he?"

"Do you care?" he asks, not unkindly.

"Unfortunately yes. I haven't forgotten that he kept your sorry ass out of prison. And mine."

"I'll tell him you said thanks. And I think he's alright. Or trying to be."

"He better not be a smartass in there."

Harvey laughs. "Funny, I told him the same thing."

"You did well today, Harvey."

He nods his head in silent gratitude.

"And with McKernon Motors and Louis' sister's company, Pearson Specter Litt might actually see two-thousand and seventeen."

"Thank god for loyalty."

Jessica finishes her glass of red wine, gathers her purse and throws her coat over her arm.

"You off to celebrate without me?" he asks her.

"The war is far from over, Harvey," she reminds him. "And I have someone to celebrate with already."

Harvey smiles, genuinely happy for her.

"I think you do too," she says tellingly.

"Don't be coy, it doesn't suit you."

Jessica scoffs. "Don't be obtuse, _that_ doesn't suit you."

" _Goodnight_ Jessica."

She shakes her head. "Night, Harvey."

* * *

She can feel him watching her from across the table. It's something that he is becoming less and less subtle with the more time they spend in each other's company. She's trying not to read too much into it.

She shovels a piece of broccoli into her mouth, keeping her eyes glued to the plate in front of her as she makes a conscious effort to ignore his unnerving gaze. She is vaguely aware of the fact that neither of them have spoken in over fifteen minutes. This probably isn't what he had in mind when he showed up at her door with takeout.

"Donna?"

She glances up at him. "Yes?"

"Do you want me to go?"

She smiles softly, despite her sour mood. She shakes her head. "No, Harvey."

"So this cold front isn't purely for my benefit?"

"Just not feeling particularly chatty this evening."

Harvey nods, chewing thoughtfully.

Her failed attempt to reach out to Rachel has been nagging at her since their brutal encounter this morning. She can hardly process it, let alone share it with Harvey.

"That's unlike you," Harvey says, expressing concern.

It's almost ironic that _he_ is the one trying to coax _her_ into talking about her feelings. The sudden role reversal is unsettling.

"I'm fine, Harvey," she says, stabbing at another vegetable with her fork.

"You know I've never once believed you when those words have come out of your mouth."

"Well good thing I became a secretary and not an actress."

She hadn't meant to snap, not really, but Harvey looks wounded by her words. She feels an immediate wave of shame, knowing she just picked a fight with Harvey because she was hurting and she needed a target.

Donna averts her eyes, clears her plate and takes it straight over to the kitchen sink. She hears the clatter of Harvey's cutlery a moment later. When she finally musters up the courage to turn around and face him he is already sliding his jacket over his shoulders. There's an apology ready on her tongue but she's too stubborn to manage the words.

"Fourteen years."

They lock eyes for an uncomfortable length of time. She curbs the natural instinct to look away.

"Fourteen years, Donna. You could have left at any time. Why did you stay? Better yet, why did you even come back?"

"Which time?" she asks, knowing that it's the wrong thing to say.

Harvey doesn't take the bait.

"The firm is in pieces. I don't even have an office, let alone a desk for you. I'm monopolising your professional _and_ personal life. So why do stay?"

She wants to remind him that both times she left him he practically fell apart without her.

"It's my job."

"Bullshit," he fires back. "You could get a job anywhere, hell, you could have become an actress if that's what you've really wanted all these years."

"You needed me," she reminds him, through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, but you never needed me. I'm the one who's held you back all these years right? Keeping you from leaving, never giving you want."

He's furious now, advancing on her in the same way he does when someone starts to get up in his face. She backs away, needing to put some distance between them. Physically, at least.

 _Why do you stay with him, Donna?_

It's a question she has been asked dozens of times. By her father, her sister, boyfriends, lovers, friends she stopped making time for years ago. It's a conversation she's tired of having, especially when everybody has already formed their own assumptions.

"Why haven't you left for good?" Harvey asks quietly.

"Because we're partners."

This stops him short, as if he hadn't expected such a straightforward answer. It may be a simple explanation, but _'partners'_ is just about the only term that encompasses everything that they are to each other.

"Why did you come over tonight?" she asks boldly.

"What are you talking about?"

"You show up – unannounced of course – and you bring dinner as if this is some sort of a regular occurrence. What gives?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

 _How very typical_. Only Harvey would expect complete honesty without ever returning the favour. If he's finally going to ask the hard questions then so is she.

"We don't do this," she points out.

"What? _Have dinner?_ "

"Come home to each other," she corrects.

Harvey sighs, cocking his head to the side. He studies for a moment.

"Would that be so bad?"

Her eyes widen dramatically. From the expression on Harvey's face, she can tell that he's just as shocked by the slip as she is.

"Uh, I didn't mean…"

"Oh no, you don't get to take that back. And don't you dare tell me you just said it to make me feel better."

Donna takes a step closer to him. She sees Harvey's hands twitch by his sides. She's not sure if it's because he's fighting the urge to flee from her apartment, or fighting the urge to reach for her.

It would be all too easy for her to kiss him.

"When you're ready to stop pretending, let me know."

Harvey furrows his brow as she backs away from him.

"Donna?"

With every last inch of her resolve she says, "Lock the door on your way out."

She walks away from him and she waits a few seconds before she hears the door open, the lock click and the door close. She expects him gone when she swirls around, but he's still there, leaning against her door with a stupid smirk on his face.

She folds her arms. "I'm going to need to hear the words."

"I'm sorry."

"Nope."

"I've been an idiot."

"Better."

They share a grin.

"I've always known it was there, Donna," he says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "But the timing was always wrong."

"Now isn't exactly a great time," she admits with a laugh.

"Well how about ten years from now I tell you I love you. Would that work?"

"You ass –"

He runs over and kisses her before she can say it.


End file.
